Finality
by KokkoryuhaFox
Summary: RaiJack. What happens when it's over?


Many many thanks to Shiva's Avatar! He's been giving me tips for improvement and coaching me XD (Oh, yes! Best word mix ever!)This one's an angst-fest people, so be ready for that. Rai/Jack, as usual. Well, do enjoy it...  
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Finality

The first sob escaped my throat and it was over.

It was so over, I was alone. Gazing around my room, I tried to ignore everything that reminded me of him. But everything, every little shadow, every wisp of dust, seemed to breathe for him. He was the air, I realized … and suddenly I couldn't breathe. My breathe was imprisoned in my chest, locked by a pain I couldn't express through any outlet. Just trapped inside my body like a caged bird; flapping futilely against the walls, tearing its weak wings to shreds.

A tear splattered on my palm, as memories overwhelmed me.

The first time I cried in front of him was after he told me he felt the same. I had been overwhelmed simply revealing my feelings to him, that I'd never even considered he could reciprocate them. He blushed and pulled me close, as I began to cry. Wiping my tears away, he spun me in a tiny circle before tipping me over, and kissing me tenderly. I tried not to let my joy overflow onto my cheeks anymore, but I couldn't prevent their escape. He just smiled, let me cry. It was then I knew I would never stop loving him.

In reality, a guitarist was swung over his instrument on a poster gracing my wall. I stared at the long hair covering his face, the darkened stage behind his frame, and then, I faded from reality to my personal beachside concert.

Bright sun fell on my skin, and while I didn't often appreciate being outside, I knew this was his element. He smiled at me from the waves; winking at me every time he ran by, surfboard close at hand. I laughed back. I watched him while sketching in my notebook, perfecting new robot plans. When he returned from the waves, he placed a wet kiss on my forehead, and whispered in my ear;

"Next time, draw me."

I promptly replied that I had no talent for drawing people. He smiled at that.

"Maybe you haven't had the right inspiration."

I couldn't help but nod at that. Hugging me tight, he huskily whispered;

"Maybe this'll inspire you."

He pulled out of our hug, and reached behind the cooler to pull forth a guitar I didn't recall him bringing. Sure I'd heard him play it before, but I'd never heard him sing. He sang to me, sang about me, with me. Our song soared into the moonlight, lost in the waves of the ocean, and freed in the gentle breeze…..

He was right; I hadn't found the right inspiration. Suddenly I had a muse.

Nearby lay that same sketchbook, forgotten, and so lonely. I reached out to it. Knowing it could understand my loneliness, I pulled it tightly to my chest. Kissed it gently, and reverently opened the pages to reveal the sketches inside. Raimundo … Raimundo… and more Raimundo. Raimundo surfing at the beach. Raimundo playing his guitar. Raimundo absorbed in song.

The first picture, where he was on the beach, wasn't my best drawing, but with the praise that had followed its unveiling; I thought it the best in the world. Even now, after all my artistic improvements, this was one of my all time favorites. A tear hit the bottom of the page, blurring a straight pencil line. A blurred line was the unfortunate reminder of our first real fight … the first in what would become a series of bitter feuds.

He'd shown up on night frustrated from what the monks had said to him about his loyalties. I knew they pushed him around a lot, it always happens to those who least deserve it. But he never said a word to them, never complained. I was in the middle of building the prototype for my new Jack-bot, when he burst into my lab.

The way he came in … uninvited, unannounced, and very clearly pissed off shocked me. Frustrated with their persistence on the subject, I unwittingly brought the first hammer strike down, on a relationship made solely of glass; I asked why he put up with their crap, when the Heylin side wouldn't hassle him so. He replied to that by punching a hole through my wall, eyes blazing in fury. He hissed at me to shut the fuck up, told me that I didn't know what I was talking about.

Rather than try to cool him down, I got pissed instead. Blinded by rage I threw my wrench at his head; which he deftly caught and hurled into my computer's main screen. That, of course, meant war.

We destroyed my lab, resorting to punches when we ran out of high tech metals and delicate instruments to heave at one another. Nothing survived.

He left, and I cried over my torn sketchbook. I looked at distorted pictures filled with happy moments between the two of us, images now as jagged and torn as our relationship, and wept bitterly over our stupidity. Neither of us ever talked about it afterwards. I know now that silence was just as much a mistake as the fight we'd just had.

I flipped forward some taped pages, to my best work in years; a picture of the two of us, hands linked with shining bands on our fingers; all done in black and white except for the rings on our fingers. It was my make-up gift to Rai.

Rai had leaned over while I was drawing and had painted the rings on with a smudged yellow thumb. I looked up into shining eyes, into beautiful bright orbs, and broke down into tears. He just kissed me again and again. That night I learned what passion was really all about. All night long he whispered to me promises of commitment and love everlasting. I cried and kissed back, full of joy and hope … lacking words to express how much he meant to me. I wish that night hadn't been an illusion, a high I'd never be able to reach again.

Tired of thinking of everything I loved about him, tired of thinking of him, I shoved the notebook aside, and turned my eyes back to my room, face sore from all my sobbing. The window was open and outside it I could see the fading sunlight. It reminded me of our last fight. Our literal last fight, the one that he had told me that we weren't going to be "us" anymore. That "we" were over and that I could just shove it.

It had been dark that night, when he flew in my window, spirits high, eyes shining bright. I was again working busily on my robot army, when he came behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. I pushed him back with a free arm forcing him to back off, hesitation in his step. A too bright band on his left finger caught my eye. Enraged, I tugged off my face mask, and dropped the first insult of the night;

"Your ring is clean, too clean, for someone who would wear it all the time."

Anger stormed through his forest eyes and I recoiled from the intensity in those emerald spheres.

His voice came out as a roar of thunder across the night sky;

"And you would know, you overbearing, controlling idiotic fool."

We came to blows quicker than ever before. After dealing me a blow that left me dizzy on the floor, he suddenly stopped. I forced myself up to face him and rather then the fury that had been there earlier, something unreadable was pooled in his eyes.

Then and there he broke up with me.

I don't remember the words specifically, just that they were something along the lines of;

"This wasn't working, we weren't compatible, we weren't meant to be, we'd tried and it just wasn't working, we should move on."

This time I didn't cry. I stood there helplessly, my heart hurting worse than the slap he'd given me.

The bird trapped inside my ribcage slammed into the walls till its wings bled. He disappeared after an eternity that I rationally knew was only a handful of seconds; the whirlwind of his words leaving me feeling breathless and tired.

When I finally realized he wasn't coming back, that this really was the end, I cried. Every emotion I'd ever felt for him suddenly found form and tilting back my head I screamed until my throat was raw; then cried till my eyes burned from painful saltwater tears.

Screamed until my throat seized up and cried until I was out of tears, and then, finally…

The bird was still; silent and broken. Wings obliterated from its struggles, blood splattered on clean white bars, cold and lifeless on the floor of its prison.

It was over. Everything was over.


End file.
